


love given unsought

by violaceum_vitellina_viridis



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Body Worship, Bottom Lambert (The Witcher), Boys In Love, M/M, Marking, Massage, Mentioned Jaskier | Dandelion, Nicknames, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Coital Cuddling, Rimming, Sappy, Sex Toys, Top Eskel (The Witcher), no beta we die like stregobor fucking should have
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:22:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26595175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violaceum_vitellina_viridis/pseuds/violaceum_vitellina_viridis
Summary: He knees up onto the bed and settles at the edge, by Eskel’s feet. “Do you want to talk about it?”Lambert takes care of Eskel.
Relationships: Eskel/Lambert (The Witcher)
Comments: 53
Kudos: 177





	love given unsought

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stfustucky (iwillpaintasongforlou)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillpaintasongforlou/gifts).



> good fucking lord it is finally done. why did this take me so long? god only knows, but it's _here_
> 
> a very belated gift to the lovely charlie, who probably asked for lambert/eskel (???) but mostly i just saw other people writing it for her and was like hey! i can do that!!!
> 
> and then i _didn't._ but also did, obvs, because you're looking at it.

“Lamb?”

Lambert smiles at the sound of Eskel’s voice, at the shortened form of his name the other Witcher only uses when they’re alone. He doesn’t turn away from where he’s mixing oils. “Strip and lay down on your back,” he says, instead of answering the unspoken question in Eskel’s voice.

There’s a huff, then the sound of shuffling, clothes dropping to the floor, and the creak of the bedframe as Eskel clambers onto it. Lambert smiles a little wider and finishes up with the oils. Once everything is poured into a little bottle and stoppered, he turns and looks at Eskel.

He’s laying naked on his back like Lambert said, legs sprawled open and arms folded under the pillow his head rests on. His head is turned to the side, toward Lambert, but his eyes are closed. Despite the fact that he looks, at first glance, like a picture of relaxation, Lambert can tell he’s still tense. It’s in the line of his forehead, the bunch of his shoulders. Never mind that he smells like anxiety, something rather undefinable but sharp and unpleasant all the same.

But that’s okay. That tenseness, that anxiety, is what Lambert is here for.

“Coming up,” he warns softly, not that Eskel really needs it. He knees up onto the bed and settles at the edge, by Eskel’s feet. “Do you want to talk about it?”

There’s a muffled sound from Eskel, something wordless and upset. He tips his head back, pulling his arms down to his sides, so that Lambert can’t really see his face. He rolls his eyes, but leaves it be.

Whether Eskel wants to talk or not, it doesn’t really matter. By the time Lambert is done with him, he’ll be feeling better, and that’s all Lambert cares about, really. He opens the bottle and pours a little oil into his palm before closing it up again and dropping it to the bed. He spreads the oil on his hands and shifts closer to Eskel’s left foot.

“Gonna touch you,” he warns, and Eskel sucks in a breath and tenses, but relaxes back down when Lambert’s slick fingertips ghost over the top of his foot.

Lambert shifts again, adjusting his stance so he can rest more comfortably on his knees, and picks up Eskel’s foot. Eskel is still a little tense, but he goes along easily enough, and when Lambert looks up he’s still looking away. Lambert rolls his eyes again, but sets to massaging Eskel’s foot.

For a moment, it’s just that. The sound of their breathing as Lambert slowly, methodically works over Eskel’s foot, from ankle to toes and back again, ensuring that every centimeter is covered.

And then he starts talking.

“It’s unfair, really,” he murmurs. “Everything about you is so pretty, even your feet.” He strokes pointedly along the bottom arch of Eskel’s foot, from heel to ball, pressure just enough so it won’t tickle. “I’ve seen those statues that are supposed to be the human ideal, and even their feet are ugly. Yours, though, they look nice. Not nice like delicate, but strong.”

“Lamb,” Eskel mumbles, and there’s a warning there, but as no further words follow, Lambert ignores it.

“You remember when Yennefer and Triss convinced Geralt to paint his nails that one winter?” he asks. “It was ridiculous, but it didn’t look too bad. I think you’d look wonderful with the paint.”

He’s not even lying – Geralt had looked a little ridiculous, all prettied up at the whims of the sorceresses, but Eskel would just look…enticing. Not that Eskel doesn’t look enticing all the time, but Lambert’s fully aware of the eroticism of someone so strong being dressed up all pretty.

“Jaskier has some,” Eskel murmurs. “The paint.”

Lambert smiles and drops Eskel’s foot to get some more oil. “Would you let me?” he asks. “Paint you up?”

“…yeah.”

“Hm. Another night, then.” Lambert represses the shiver that trips down his spine. Eskel trusts him so much, and he knows it, but sometimes the reminder still blows him away. “For now….”

He moves his hands up Eskel’s shin, from ankle to knee, pressure gentle enough that it won’t hurt but enough to feel. Eskel makes a low, rumbling sound, and his legs shifts just slightly closer to Lambert’s fingers. Lambert smiles again but keeps going, spreading the oil and massaging it into the skin. There’s scars here, but not many, and most of them are old and faded, no longer raised or pink. Lambert traces carefully over them all the same, naming the ones he knows and wondering silently about the ones he doesn’t.

“So strong,” he murmurs. “Always have been. Probably the strongest of all of us, and I’m not just talking about your muscles. Though I am talking about those, too.” He chuckles a little, thinking of the time Eskel picked Geralt up around the waist and threw him into a snowbank. “I’ve always loved your legs, you know. Even when I was a little twerp running around the castle before they made the mistake of giving me a medallion.”

“Not a mistake,” Eskel says. “You’re a good Witcher. And an even better man.”

Lambert feels the way heat rises to his face, tinging his ears pink, but ignores it. “Thank you,” he says. “But that’s not the point. You’ve always looked so good, Eskel. Love all of you, but your legs are something else.”

He gets more oil and moves up to the front of Eskel’s thigh, from knee to where thigh turns into hip. Eskel sucks in a breath, short and sharp, and out of the corner of his eye Lambert can see his cock twitch. He bites his lip and forces himself to stay on task.

“Especially these thighs,” he continues. “I remember the first time we sparred, I couldn’t stop thinking about how easily you could just crush me between them. And then the first time we – well. I was certainly very happy to be crushed.”

“ _Lamb_ ,” Eskel hisses, hips shifting. Lambert hums, but continues with the massage, until all of the oil has soaked into Eskel’s skin.

Then he grabs more and moves, so he’s further down again and to the right, and grabs Eskel’s other foot.

Eskel makes a soft, desperate noise, but doesn’t say anything or fight Lambert’s hold on his foot. Lambert forces himself not to grin and continues the massage, just as thorough on this foot as he was the other. Ankle to toes and back, again and again, until there’s no tension left and the oil has soaked in.

“I really do like the idea of prettying you up,” he murmurs as he moves up. “You’re already pretty, of course, but the idea of you all painted and maybe wearing something delicate….”

He doesn’t bother to hide the shiver that rocks him, and Eskel makes that same desperate noise from before. In his peripheral, Lambert can see his cock is half-hard now, laying in the crook of his hip. He swallows down the sound that tries to break free.

“Have Jaskier help, he’s good at that kind of thing. Would know just what to put you in, what colors to use. I’m partial to the red and black, personally.”

Eskel chuckles weakly, and Lambert grins, moving up to his thigh.

“But I think I’d have to keep you to myself after that. I like the sharing, but sometimes….” Lambert huffs and digs his fingers a little harder into Eskel’s thigh. “I like it when you’re mine, too.”

“Fuck, Lambert,” Eskel groans, hips shifting. Lambert makes a low sound in reply and grabs more oil as he shifts so he’s between Eskel’s spread thighs. Eskel adjusts to give him more space, and Lambert looks up to find he’s being stared at.

Eskel’s eyes are wide and dark, pupils blown round, and sweat is starting to bead up on his forehead, his throat. Lambert licks his lips at the sight, momentarily taken by the temptation to abandon his original plan. But he resists – somewhat – and instead starts rubbing the oil into Eskel’s hips, paying an equal amount of attention to his cock and balls, but only fleetingly.

“Your hips are something else entirely,” Lambert murmurs, eyes back to his task. “Gods, sometimes when I see you in the baths it’s nearly impossible to keep my hands or my mouth to myself. The way you _move_.” He traces gently, and then with more pressure, over the line of muscle that arrows down into Eskel’s pelvis, and shudders at the way it makes Eskel whine. It’s sensitive, he knows, and he wants nothing more than to sink his teeth into it, feel the way Eskel flexes.

But he’s got more planned, first. He moves, leaning forward and lifting his legs, until he’s left straddling Eskel’s hips, his erection pressed between them. He grunts and has to swallow down the rest of his noises when he feels the way it flexes against him. His own cock is hard, definitely interested, but he’s doing his best to ignore it. Instead, he gets more oil and sets to spreading it over Eskel’s belly and ribs, up his chest.

Eskel starts to pant. Lambert has to reach into the well of patience becoming a Witcher gave him to stop himself giving in to temptation.

“Like how you’re always so soft,” he murmurs, petting over Eskel’s belly. There’s an insulating layer of fat over the muscles there, soft on top of rock solid, and he’s always adored it. “Like how there’s more to you.” He digs his fingers in a bit, just to hear Eskel’s breath hitch, then presses upward, to Eskel’s ribs, also hidden beneath a layer of soft fat. “You’re so broad, too. Make me feel small, and it’s not too often I get to feel small. Love it so much when you’re over me and against me, how warm you are, how solid.”

He presses just hard enough to feel Eskel’s ribs, and counts them in his head as he moves up, until he can cup Eskel’s pecs in his hands. Practically tits with how large they are, just enough give to make them nice to lay on and squeeze.

Eskel gives a rumbling growl and arches up, into the pressure of Lambert’s hands. He massages harder, really making sure to dig into the muscle, to cover every inch of skin. When his fingers ‘accidentally’ pluck at Eskel’s nipples, he’s rewarded with a soft, breathless whimper. He lingers there, petting Eskel’s nipples and trailing touch over the rise of his chest, until the oil is really soaked all the way in and he can no longer justify it.

With more oil on his palms, he moves up to Eskel’s collarbone and throat, along the front of his shoulders. Eskel tips his head back to give him room, gaze catching Lambert’s.

Lambert’s breath hitches. He doesn’t stop what he’s doing, but he can’t resist leaning down to kiss Eskel, licking over his lip and into his mouth with the ease of practice. He knows what Eskel likes, and Eskel definitely knows what he likes. The kiss is slow and almost chaste, everything considered, but no less shattering for it, slick and sending tingles from Lambert’s skull to his toes.

Eskel moans when they break apart, and Lambert feels the sound vibrate in his throat.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Your fucking voice – so deep and smooth. Could have cornered me when I was younger and just ordered me to come and I probably would have, I was so far gone on you.”

“Could smell it,” Eskel mumbles, eyes squeezing shut as Lambert digs his fingers into his shoulders. “All the damn time, you smelled so much like _want_ , thought I was gonna break and take you in the damn dining room sometimes.”

Lambert jerks and moans, fingers stilling on Eskel’s throat for a moment. He’d known, of course, that there was no such thing as subtle in a castle full of Witchers – the teasing he’d gotten every winter that Eskel came home was proof of that – but being _reminded_ , hearing it from Eskel himself in that deep, rough, lust-soaked voice. “ _Fuck_ ,” he whispers.

“Would have let you,” he finally continues, voice only wavering slightly. He gets more oil and moves on to Eskel’s biceps. “Gods, would have let you do anything to me. _Will_ , would still let you now. Your arms are a fucking masterpiece, Eskel, strong and soft all at once, big enough to wrap around me all the way and then some. You really do make me feel small and I _love_ it.”

Eskel’s arms flex, but he doesn’t reach up and yank Lambert down as expected. Lambert hums a thanks and moves on, leaning to the side so he can focus on Eskel’s left arm. From bicep to elbow, first, until the oil is soaked in, and then his forearm. He moves to the right arm and repeats the process, careful to massage with just enough pressure, and Eskel groans, low and wanting.

Finished with Eskel’s arms, Lambert grabs his hands and pulls them up, so they rest on Eskel’s chest. He goes along with the pull easily, resting his hands on his sternum, lightly entwined. Lambert takes him in for a moment, how the tension has mostly gone out of him now, the way the oil has given his skin a slight sheen in the low light. With more oil on his hands, but less than before, Lambert picks up his left hand and sets to massaging it. He’s careful, gentle with the places he knows take a lot of strain from sword and Sign work. Eskel makes a soft, content sound and seems to almost melt into the bed.

When he’s finished massaging Eskel’s hand, he brings it further up and presses a kiss to each of Eskel’s knuckles, murmuring all the while. “Love your hands,” he says. “They’re big and warm, so gentle when you want to be, but deadly if necessary. Can hold me down or patch me up with ease. Feel good on and in me, every time.”

Eskel shudders, movement rocking both of them and making the bed creak a little. Lambert doesn’t stop, continuing with the little praises until he’s kissed each knuckle on Eskel’s hand. He sets it gently back down to the bed and then grabs the other just to repeat the process.

This time, he talks during the massage as well. “I’ve always liked to watch your hands,” he says. “Even before it was me being a pervert. That one winter where you were part of the Sign instruction, just after my Trials? It was mesmerizing. You’re just so good at the Signs, and your hands are so pretty when you’re moving them. After that, I watched you whenever I could. ’Course, it eventually got perverted, but still. Liked to watch you sharpen swords, especially.”

“I noticed,” Eskel mumbles. “Didn’t help with that temptation to fuck you in the dining hall.”

Lambert swallows and forces himself to still his hips. “Gods,” he mutters. He finishes the right hand with those same kisses, still mumbling soft praises the whole time, and Eskel’s eyes burn into his as he slowly lowers the hand back down.

“Turn over?” Lambert asks. He wants to finish this, but if Eskel asks right now –

“Okay,” Eskel says softly. Lambert moves higher onto his knees automatically, and Eskel flips over with a stunning amount of grace, arms splayed to his side and head turned to rest on the pillow. Lambert can just barely see a glimpse of his eye through the curtain of his hair, and something about that makes his cock twitch.

He’s trembling slightly when he grabs the oil but he ignores it, pouring a generous amount onto the center of Eskel’s back. Eskel jerks slightly at the feeling, and Lambert hushes him, using just his fingertips to spread the oil at first, and then his palms. He works slowly, going in a circle from the center of Eskel’s back and out, so he covers his spine and his ribs and his shoulders.

“Love that you let me do this,” he murmurs eventually. “That you trust me with your body, with your pleasure. With everything else, too. Love how you look under me like this, letting me touch and comfort you, doing as I ask so well. Fuck, I love being yours, but there’s something different about how you’re _mine_.”

Eskel whines, shoulders bunching for a moment before he visibly forces himself to relax. “Lamb,” he mumbles. “Love _you_.”

Lambert has to swallow back a weak noise at that. “I know,” he says. “Love you too, Eskel, so fucking much. Just want to take care of you.”

He continues at Eskel’s back, going from the all-over approach to targeting specific places, from shoulders to ribs to the small of his back, then his spine. After that, he focuses on the knots, where he can feel Eskel still carrying tension, even if he doesn’t know it. Eskel grunts and groans into the pillow while he works, but Lambert can feel him relaxing, feel the way he starts to go limp.

Shuffling down and getting back between Eskel’s legs is a little awkward, but he doesn’t comment on it. Lambert gets more oil and starts on the backs of Eskel’s thighs.

“Seriously, your fucking thighs,” he mumbles. “Love it when they’re wrapped around me, my waist or my head. Can feel how strong you are when you do it, know how easily you could hurt me but you _don’t_.”

“Lambert,” Eskel pants. “Fuck, I – ”

“Shh.” Lambert moves down to his calves. “I’ll take care of you.”

And he _will_. Massage nearly done, his head is practically spinning with all of the possibilities for the rest of the night. He knows how it’ll start – it was in the original plan with the massage – but where it will _go_ , there are so many options he’s not sure he’ll be able to pick just one or two.

He could spend the rest of their lives in bed with Eskel and never run out of things to do, he thinks.

A little more oil over his hands and he moves finally to Eskel’s ass, round and hard with muscle but soft when Lambert presses just enough. Eskel whimpers, half-muffled, and jerks his hips back, pressing himself into Lambert’s hands. He keeps the massage just the same here, consistent and gentle but enough to feel, until the oil has soaked in, but his cock throbs every time he pulls Eskel’s cheeks apart just enough to catch a glimpse of his hole.

Finally, when he can no longer justify prolonging the teasing any longer – and Eskel is making weak little noises near continuously – Lambert shifts his knees and spreads Eskel apart once more just to bury his face in the space it makes.

Eskel shouts, loud and shocked and broken, but Lambert ignores that, just laves his tongue over the twitching hole under it. He can’t smell or taste or see or _hear_ anything except Eskel, and he’s rather sure he’d be content to die here. Instead, though, he sets to making Eskel melt, eating him out like a starving man. It’s loud and sloppy, saliva making a mess of his face and Eskel’s hole, but he can feel the way Eskel pushes back against his tongue, hear the broken sounds pouring from his mouth.

Eventually, those sounds coalesce into words, into begging. “ _Please_ , Lamb, fuck, want – more, more, fuck, please.”

Lambert gives in easily, tracing around the softened rim of Eskel’s hole one last time before he points his tongue and pushes, feeling the tight clench of him. It makes his stomach tighten and drop, makes his cock drool all over his thigh.

“Fuck, yes, please,” Eskel continues to babble, “ _yes,_ Lambert, yes, just like that, _fuck_.” His hips move back and then forward, settling into a shocky little rhythm that Lambert matches, until Eskel is practically fucking himself on Lambert’s tongue, whining and whimpering for it as he tears at the sheets. “Feel so fucking good, Lamb, _please_.”

Lambert pulls back to breathe, but replaces his tongue with one finger. It sinks in to the knuckle easily, and Eskel whimpers, clenching down on it. “So fucking hot,” he mutters, jaw a little sore and tongue numb. “Look at you. Do you want to come like this? On my tongue and fingers?”

“Oh, fuck, please,” Eskel pants, hips working even faster. “I’m so close, _please_.”

Lambert grins and leans back down to lick around where Eskel is speared on one finger, until its wet enough he can sink a second one in, and then he settles down to work. He thrusts his fingers in and out, matching Eskel’s hips, and shoves his tongue in around them, between them, just to listen to the wanton sounds Eskel lets out at the feeling.

Eskel’s thighs start to shudder around him. Lambert grins and hums against Eskel’s rim, fingers as deep as he can get them as he crooks them down and rubs forward, just a little.

“ _Fuck_!” Eskel nearly screams the word, entire body locking up at Lambert rubs mercilessly at his prostate until the shaking has moved from his legs to the rest of his body. “Fuck, Lambert, Lambert, going to – _fuck, Lamb_!”

He can feel Eskel’s orgasm roll through him, see it in the way his body starts to go limp in stages and his ass clenches rhythmically around Lambert’s knuckles. He keeps prodding at Eskel’s prostate until the trembling has returned, then slowly pulls his fingers out, licking over the soft, stretched rim lightly.

“Gods,” Eskel pants. “Fuck, get _up_ here.”

Lambert doesn’t really have enough time to parse that order before Eskel has flipped onto his back and is yanking him up by his neck. He lands on top of Eskel, limbs tangled awkwardly, and they both laugh, but Eskel doesn’t stop tugging at him.

“Okay, okay,” Lambert huffs, finally scrambling around enough to get himself situated so he’s straddling Eskel’s waist. Eskel pulls him down into a kiss, chasing the taste of himself on Lambert’s tongue with a vengeance. Lambert groans into it, sinking his fingers into Eskel’s soft hair. The kiss gets sloppy and uncoordinated quickly, Lambert’s tongue fumbling and tired and Eskel refusing to let go to properly breathe.

When they do finally pull apart, they’re both panting.

“Fuck my face,” Eskel grunts. “Want – fuck, want to taste you, please.”

“ _Gods_ ,” Lambert hisses. “Yeah, whatever you want.”

He shuffles up the bed, until he’s straddling Eskel’s shoulders, Eskel’s hands resting on his ass and wrapped around his hip, respectively. His cock throbs where it’s swaying in front of Eskel’s face, and Eskel stretches his neck up so he can flick his tongue over the head, a desperate look in his eyes.

“Fuck.” Lambert grabs his cock by the base, squeezing tightly, and taps the head of it against Eskel’s lips. Eskel drops his mouth open to let it smear over his tongue, and Lambert groans. “ _Fuck_ , look at you, so fucking pretty.” It’s easy to press forward, to sink the head of his cock into Eskel’s mouth.

Eskel’s hands tighten on him and he bobs forward as much as he can, tongue twisting around the head. Lambert groans and threads his fingers through Eskel’s hair, starting to rock his hips just a little.

His entire body flashes with heat when Eskel just groans, eyes rolling, and lets Lambert work. He goes slow at first. It’s more for his sake than Eskel’s – he knows Eskel can take more than this. But he’s already close, worked up by the slow build and the noises Eskel makes, the way his eyes roll as he sucks sloppily at the head of Lambert’s cock.

Soon enough, though, the slow just isn’t cutting it – for either of them, judging by the way Eskel keeps tugging at him, trying to force him closer, faster.

“Gods,” Lambert mutters, half-snarl. “Want it so badly, don’t you.”

It’s not a question because it doesn’t need to be. He _knows._ He untangles one hand from Eskel’s hair to stroke softly over his face, tracing the scars. “Look at you,” he mumbles. “Look so desperate for it, all wide-eyed. Love how you look with a cock in your mouth, but especially when it’s mine. _Fuck_ , Eskel.”

Eskel makes a low, growling noise, eyes squeezing shut as Lambert continues to move his cock in and out of his mouth and pet over his scars at the same time. They’re sensitive, usually enough that Eskel doesn’t like them touched, but like this – wanting and oversensitive already, that is – he _loves_ it. He’s never admitted that out loud to Lambert, but he doesn’t need to hear it to know.

“Like how they feel,” he says, and watches as Eskel’s eyes go sharp and then hazy all over again. “They’re soft.” He presses a little into the scar tissue, right where it pulls Eskel’s lip up, and then pets at that little notch. Watching how moving his cock in and out moves the skin makes his stomach tighten. “And I love how they make you shiver, when I do this.”

As if on cue, Eskel’s whole body shudders, and Lambert grins.

“Yeah, just like that.” Lambert moves a little faster, heart rate picking up as he spirals closer and closer to the edge. “ _Fuck_ , you feel so godsdamned good.”

Eskel’s fingers dig into his skin, sure to leave bruises, but Lambert just presses into the hold, _wanting_ the proof. Wanting to see the shape of Eskel’s fingers on his skin. His rhythm starts to falter as he gets closer, but Eskel takes it in stride, just holding on and making soft, desperate noises around Lambert’s cock. The noises aren’t helping Lambert hold on at _all._

“Fuck, _fuck,_ gonna – _Eskel,_ gods.” He shudders hard enough to make the bed creak when he comes, and Eskel just groans, swallowing around him as if he’s afraid he might miss something. Lambert whines and pitches forward, leaning on the bed just above Eskel’s head. “ _Fuck._ ”

It takes a moment for him to come down properly. Eskel seems content even with Lambert’s cock slowly softening in his mouth, just breathing evenly and petting over Lambert’s sides.

Finally, Lambert manages to move, shifting awkwardly down Eskel’s body until he can kiss him. The kiss is sticky and bitter but the underlying taste of Eskel, and the desperation still rolling off of him in waves entirely makes up for any small unpleasantness.

“Want more?” Lambert asks, and Eskel nods hard enough he nearly slams their heads together.

“Fuck, yes, please,” he begs, and Lambert can’t help but kiss him again. And again, and again, until they’re both breathless and Eskel is trembling slightly and they’re both getting hard again.

“Tell me what you want,” Lambert says when they finally separate and catch their breath. It’ phrased like an order but sounds like a question. Eskel just sucks in a deep breath and looks like he’s considering something, so Lambert leaves him to it, trailing soft, wet kisses over his scars, along his jaw, down his neck. Eskel finally speaks again when Lambert’s busy sucking a vivid hickey over his pulse point.

“I want to fuck you,” he says. “But….”

Lambert leaves off the hickey, licking gently over the purpling mark. “But what?” he asks, moving across Eskel’s collarbone to give him another on the other side.

“Mmm,” Eskel tips his head back and rocks his whole body up, a sinuous move that makes Lambert’s cock twitch. “Want something inside me, too.”

Lambert groans, teeth sinking maybe slightly too hard into Eskel’s collar as he takes that in. “Fuck, Eskel,” he mumbles, kissing and licking over the marks in apology. “ _Fuck_.”

“Do we have anything?”

“Even if we don’t, I’m not above stealing from Jaskier,” Lambert laughs, clambering off of Eskel and then off of the bed next. He walks over to the dresser, fully aware of Eskel’s eyes on him, and bends to dig through the bottom drawer. There’s a mess of things in it, scarves and leather cuffs and other toys, but he’s looking for something specific. He just isn’t sure it’s here, or if it’s somehow ended up in any one of the other rooms that they all tend to migrate around into like particularly indecisive birds.

He finds it in the back of the drawer finally and then returns to the bed, sliding back between Eskel’s legs. Eskel is still looking at him, eyes burning as he slowly strokes himself. Lambert shudders and gropes for the oil again, fingers fumbling in his hurry.

Eskel shifts and raises his legs, and Lambert ducks his head to kiss from his knee down his inner thigh. While he does that, he coats the little toy in oil and then presses the tapered end of it to Eskel’s hole, still open from Lambert’s fingers and tongue. Eskel sucks in a breath and shifts his hips forward, looking for more.

Lambert groans at the sight and slowly, slowly starts pressing the toy inside. It does easily for the first inch or so, and then it starts to get wider, and Eskel makes a soft, punched-out sound at the feeling.

“Lamb, _Lamb,_ ” he pants. “Please.”

“I know,” Lambert mumbles watching as the toy slowly sinks into Eskel’s body. “ _Fuck,_ that’s so hot. _You’re_ so hot, gods.”

“ _Lambert._ ”

It take a handful of minutes, but eventually the toy is sunk in to the base. Lambert presses at it just to see the way Eskel jolts, then, without warning, thumbs at the little sigil along the edge. The toy starts to vibrate softly, not even at the same strength as their medallions, but plenty to _feel._

“Oh, _fuck,_ ” Eskel whines. “Fuck, _fuck,_ Lambert, this is – ”

“Hm? Too much?”

“ _No._ ” Eskel shakes his head hard, more thrashing than anything else. “Just – _fuck._ ”

Lambert chuckles and grabs the oil again before he moves back up to straddle Eskel’s waist. “Gonna ride you,” he murmurs, pouring oil over his fingers. Eskel just moans at the words and the sight, tossing his head back and jerking his hips up. Lambert can feel the displacement of air when his cock twitches, close enough to Lambert’s back it almost tickles in a false sense of touch.

He moves quickly to open himself up, not bothering to drag anything out. It’s been dragged out enough, he thinks, with the massage. Eskel looks wrecked underneath him, skin soft and shiny with the oil and splotchy red with arousal. It still takes several minutes, of course – Eskel isn’t exactly _small_ – but he’s lucky that they do this often enough it’s easy to force his body into relaxing.

“Feel good?” Eskel asks, and it would sound teasing from anyone else, but Eskel just sounds painfully earnest.

“ _Yeah,_ ” Lambert pants, laughing a little. “Your cock will feel better, though.”

Eskel whimpers and his hips jerk again. Lambert chuckles some more and works a third finger inside himself with a punchy breath. Finally, his impatience wins out. He shifts back a little and slicks the remaining oil over Eskel’s cock, shivering at the broken noise Eskel makes at the touch.

“Ready?” he asks, and Eskel huffs.

“Are _you?_ ” he shoots back, and Lambert grins, leaning down to kiss him. It’s quick and dirty, more teeth than anything, and then Lambert is leaning back up to line up. Eskel reaches up to steady him, and Lambert tangles their fingers together over his hip.

“Ah, _fuck,_ ” Lambert gasps. Even prepped and with practice, Eskel always feels like so damn _much._ “Fuck, Eskel, feel so fucking good every time.”

Eskel just makes a low, garbled noise, and squeezes at Lambert’s hand. Lambert squeezes back and keeps pressing down, down, until his ass meets Eskel’s hips. They both groan at the feeling.

“So godsdamned big,” Lambert pants, rolling his hips. “Always feel so fucking perfect inside me, _fuck._ ”

“ _Lambert,_ ” Eskel whines. Lambert can feel the tension in him where he’s trying so hard to hold back, and laughs.

“Come on,” he says, bracing against Eskel’s broad chest. “Fuck me.” He rolls his hips again, lifting a little this time before dropping back down in a sharp movement, and Eskel _growls_. His legs raise up and brace on the bed and then he’s doing exactly as Lambert said.

_Fucking him._

“Ah, shit, _fuck,_ ” Lambert chokes, voice breaking up with the force of Eskel’s thrusts. He tries to participate as much as he can, but for the most part, caught between Eskel’s raises legs and the hands on his hips, he’s just in for the ride. Something about that makes his stomach swoop, like it _always_ does, and he whines. “ _Fuck,_ fuck, Eskel.”

“So perfect, Lamb,” Eskel pants out. “So good to me, always so – _fuck_ – fuck, just like that, _gods,_ you’re so fucking good. Feel like heaven.”

“ _Eskel_.” Lambert’s voice is more breath than anything at this point. Unable to really move like he wants, he settles for digging his nails into Eskel’s pecs and clenching down on him, head spinning when the pressure on his prostate makes him lose his breath. “Es – Eskel – oh, fuck, yes, _Kel,_ please.”

Eskel growls again, and Lambert wants to laugh but can’t find the breath for it. That nickname always gets Eskel going, _always,_ and this time is no different. Before Lambert even realizes Eskel is going to move, he _does,_ and he finds himself being slammed onto his back near the edge of the bed. He gasps and then moans when Eskel’s cock sinks back into him in one slow, steady slide.

“Fuck, fuck, Kel, yes, please,” he babbles, eyes rolling. This time it’s not even a tease, it just spills out, and Eskel growls again but gathers Lambert up in his arms and starts moving. Lambert keens, the change in position and angle sending lightning up his spine to white out his mind. “ _Fuck!_ ”

“Lamb,” Eskel murmurs, teeth scraping over Lambert’s throat before he bites down. Lambert shudders and moans, nails digging into Eskel’s back as he moves faster, thrusts not quite arrhythmic but bordering on sloppy.

“Kel,” Lambert slurs back, too awash in pleasure to manage anything else. He’s so close he can practically taste it, and Eskel’s teeth in his neck just makes it better, sends him spiraling higher. “Kel, _Kel._ ” He tightens his holds on Eskel, whimpering wildly moving his legs changes the angle again.

Eskel just grunts and licks over the tiny pinpricks his teeth have left, then sets to marking Lambert up even more, sucking kisses and bites trailing from his throat to his collar and across to his shoulder. And then back, tracing backwards until he can go down again on the other side. Lambert just tosses his head back and whimpers for it, cock flexing where it’s caught between them.

“Kel,” he pants, half-sob, “Kel, _please,_ please.”

“I’ve got you,” Eskel murmurs, voice rough, “Right here, Lamb, come on. Come apart for me.”

“ _Fuck,_ ” Lambert shouts. It doesn’t take long after that; all it takes is a handful of sharp, pointed thrusts and Eskel whimpering, “ _Lamb,_ love you,” into his ear for Lambert to spill, slicking the scant space between them. He whines his way through it, a mess of Eskel’s name and nonsensical, garbled praises.

Eskel follows him down quickly after, teeth digging near deep enough to bleed into Lambert’s shoulder when he shudders and stills, pressed as deep as he can get. Lambert shivers along with him, aftershocks still sending bursts of pleasure through him.

“Love you,” he manages to slur after a long moment. Eskel licks over the marks from his teeth, the touch stinging, and then nuzzles against Lambert’s jaw.

“Too good to me,” Eskel says after another stretch of silence. “Thank you.”

Lambert hums and gently pushes at him. “Want to talk about it?” he offers again.

Eskel shakes his head as he pulls back. “’S fine,” he says. “Just – wanna hold you for a bit.”

“Fine by me.” Lambert sits up enough to shuffle back to the middle of the bed and then collapses back down. Eskel takes a moment, but joins him quickly enough, slotting against Lambert’s side and wrapping big, heavy arms around him. Lambert relaxes into it with a content sigh.

**Author's Note:**

> life is awful and my body is at least 20 years older than i actually am, pls give me validation so i can extract dopamine from it.


End file.
